


Solstice

by Queenofsand



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Divergence Canon, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Arya Stark, POV Daenerys Targaryen, POV Original Female Character, POV Sansa Stark, POV Theon Greyjoy, POV Yara Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy Lives, bashing Euron, because it what we deserved and need, but all of them have issues to resolve, more or less because the feelings exist, slowburn, the characters talk about their emotions and past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofsand/pseuds/Queenofsand
Summary: After the Night King's defeat and the arrival of dawn, political struggle continues. Cersei Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen fight for control of Iron Throne, while Dyanna Yronwood, Sansa Stark and Yara Greyjoy demand independence from their respective kingdoms. Kingdoms have bled and rivals must ally to prevent the death of more people, even when past wounds still damage.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry, Missandei/Greyworm (Minor), Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy/ Daenerys Targaryen (minor)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. FIN DE LA NOCHE

#  NIGHT END 

The flames of fire grew upon when they received the wood. The room was already warm, especially for a woman from the North, but the maester had said the heat would help Theon. He had been found in the snow, the dark red of his blood, born of his wound, staining the pure white of the snow. Sansa had felt the tears born, even when the maester told her he was alive, but she didn't drop them until she and Theon were alone, even if he couldn't wipe away her tears. Not for the first time, Theon had fought between life and death and, as always, Theon had won to the death. Sansa had stayed every night during that last battle by his side. She couldn't have been in the old one, but she could be in that one. The first night, Arya had insisted her to go to the celebration, a reminder that they had triumphed over the dead, despite all those who had fallen. When Sansa replied that she preferred to stay with Theon, she saw in her little sister (the heroine who had finished with the Night King) a distant gaze, as if still being aware of the events around her she tried to find a solution to an riddle that prevented her from moving forward. But Arya was gone before she could talk to her. Eight dawns had passed since then. Sansa moved the trays with the empty plates of the bed and deposited them on the wooden table, full of letters and decrees. She had been talking to her uncle, Lord Edmure Tully, to have supplies sent to them in exchange for wood and wool, they were finishing closing the agreements when the dead arrived. Tomorrow she would send the last ones, one to her uncle and one to her cousin, Lord Robin Arryn. She turned around and saw Theon's head among the pile of blankets where he was wrapped. His face, which had been pale, had regained some color and a tender pink covered his cheeks, his lips were no longer violet, the product of the cold, they were red and should not be so tempting to Sansa. She felt ashamed, she shouldn't think about those things with another near war.

"I'm not cold, you don't have to light the chimney only for me." Said Theon, his voice was too close to a whisper to Sansa's taste. She had made sure to get all the skins she had deemed necessary to keep Theon warm and she still found them insufficient. His green eyes seemed to drink from her figure, she dressed with nothing but a simple wool dress to sleep in, without leather armor or belts. Or maybe it was just her imagination, wanting a man she loved to see her.

"Don't say 'only' like you're a nuisance. Besides, you're shaking and I want you to feel comfortable." _I don't want you to die. _She didn't say the last sentence, fearing the gods would mock her desires. They had already done so when they ignored the pleas for her father's life, her prayers for Robb and her mother, when she wanted be wrong and Rickon could survived that monster. Margaery had even been taken away. The maester had assured her that Theon would survive, but it wasn't the first time she had been promised a life and given a death. Sansa remembered those words and guilt almost forced her away from Theon.__

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_Please, I can't lose anyone else. _She had prayed to the gods of her father and the gods of her mother, even Theon's Drowned God, thinking that he would listen if she begged for his son's life. She had wiped the sweat off his forehead, and when the maester left, (after cleaning his wounds) she would pray again, sitting at the foot of the bed and with Theon's cold hands among hers, wanting to transmit heat. It had worked, three days later, he woke up, but a week had passed and he had been recommended to stay in those rooms. The maester insisted that he not get too tired, but although he was still not able to leave the room, since that morning, the maester had begun to allow him to get out of bed, much to Sansa's relief, because it meant that he was already out of danger.__

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Sansa sat next to him, over a wooden chair she had approached to talk as she sewed, trying not to let him feel alone. She stroked his cheek, warm and soft. Sansa thought the rose increased when she touched it. She passed her fingers gently, a caress as a sign of love.

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"Can I enter in the bed with you?" She asked in a soft, quiet voice. 

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"It's your bed. Also, you ask the same thing every night, and the answer remains yes." Theon answered with a smile attempt. Sansa didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, or worse, forced, so she always asked. Even for the smallest things, as if he preferred her to brush his hair. 

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The smile reminded her of first of all. Before war and suffering, before death. _But Theon had already experienced a rebellion and had seen death at a terribly young age_ , reminding her of a voice in her head.

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Theon moved a little, making place for her, she gently got in, trying not to inconvenience Theon or hurt him. They approached, their hands almost rubbing. A light of hesitation settled into Theon's green eyes while he held her hand, but hesitation disappeared when Sansa gently squeezed his. Theon's hand was terribly cold, but not cold enough to remember death. They got even closer, on the bed and wrapped in furs. Sansa didn't know how guilty was the heat of the red of his cheeks and her heart racing. She feared Theon would notice it when he leaned on her chest, but if he did, he said nothing. Sansa stroked Theon's light curls, his head on her chest and her arms around her waist. 

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_"He should be angry at me." _She thought but having him around her made her so happy that she wanted to be selfish.__

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__His breathing became calmer as he fell asleep. He seemed calm and happy. Sansa would like to see him like this when he was awake. She smiled as he watched him sleep and closed her eyes, wishing that moment would not end and begging for no nightmares that night._ _

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When Viserys died, Daenerys thought she was the last. The last Targaryen, who would always be alone and she would be in charge of bringing justice to her family. She thought her family had disappeared and that no one could finish understanding her, for although she loved Missandei, she was her friend, not her sister. Her mother had died in childbirth, Viserys had always reminded her and blamed Daenerys for the death of their mother, for a while she also thought it was her fault, until she understood that it didn't. Her father, killed by the traitor Lannister, Rhaegal by the Usurper and Visery... She didn't want to think about him. He could have been her brother, but he had threatened to kill her son. Aegon and Rhaenys had been killed by one of the Usurper's Dogs and the Usurper had done nothing to bring them justice, but she wasn't surprise, he envied killers againts her and Viserys. She didn't want to think about her childrens, Viserion had died and Drogon and Rhaegal were wounded. Rhaego wasn't even born. She was their mother, she should have protected them. She tried to contain them, but the tears began to fall. They had defeated the dead but she wasn't happy. She felt scared and sad. She didn't want to think about Ser Barristan, who had died protecting Grey Worm, she tried to comfort herself when she remembered that the knight wanted to die in battle and not in bed and that his dream had come true. She also didn't want to think about Ser Jorah... he had died to protect her. She was lonely, a little girl again. But she shouldn't, because Jon was also a Targaryen. He was her nephew. Daenerys tryed to stop her tears again. What would happen now? Would another man take away her power? She shouldn't think so, but it was so hard not to. She didn't want to see another Viserys in Jon, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to love him, she shouldn't mind if they were family... but she felt like it was a farce Who was Jon? Her lover? Her nephew? He borned after a raped...all the things she thought about Rhaegar changed too. She left her dress on the bed, she was still hungry, but she had left dinner when she noticed Tyrion's gaze. Every day they were the same, he looked at her, she felt terribly uncomfortable and left her plate unfinished. She had lost too much weight, her ribs or jaw couldn't be noticed, but if she kept going like this it wouldn't take long. She started undoing her braids. Missandei was talking to Grey Worm, and she hadn't wanted to interrupt them. At least her friend seemed happy in the cold North. Or maybe it was because she was with someone who loved her unconditionally.

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_"She deserves it. Missandei has suffered too much" _decided Daenerys with a little smile.__

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The bedding formed with furs was warm, which she appreciated. The heat had always comforted her, made her feel safe. She approached her trunk and, rummaging through the clothes, found it. Yara Greyjoy had given her a conch when they said goodbye, it was white with violet lines, when she approached her ear, among the waves of the sea she could hear her words _"It is not half as beautiful as you, but it will suffice." _She said with her voice, half rought, half soft. Dany's cheeks started to be rose when she had listened it. And now her cheeks were pink too.__

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Daenerys had liked the sea almost as much as the fire. Yara had not only given her a conch, but also a kiss. Daenerys smiled with remembrance. His lips had been known to salt, but they had provoked attraction and not rejection. It was not like Drogo's painful kisses, it was safe and desired, it was close to Daario's, both dangerous, but in Yara's, Daenerys found a calm that enveloped her with dangers, like fire. She smiled, there were no more tears, but the feeling was still there. Insecurity, sadness and bewilderment.

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_"Tomorrow I will make a decision. I'll talk to Jon tomorrow."_ She promised. _"But gods, if you exist, leave me a night without nightmares. One last night, before my fate is sealed."_ She had never been a believer, no one had instilled any religion in her, but perhaps someone would have compassion on her. It didn't matter if he was the lord of the light of Illyrio or the Seven of Westeros, it didn't matter if the Horse God of the Dothraki listened to it or the Moon and the Sun... Only they give her mercy and peace. Lying on the bed, with the conch still in her ear, she let the dream overcome. She forgot death, danger and fear, that belonged to when she was awake. And she dreamed of salt kisses, with the warm hands of the iron queen, and with sea and fire. She dreamed with a women with dark hair and eyes like sea storms who kiss her. 

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Podrick's voice was becoming further and further away. Arya walked through the corridors of Winterfell, with that dagger in hand. That dagger with which she had killed Night King. 

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"Queen Cersei!" she whispered. Beric Dondarrion had been on her list, Beric Dondarrion had died to protect her. The red woman had been on her list, the red woman had been the one who had told her that she should kill death. There was only one name left. The name of the one who had tormented her family since _she_ arrived in Winterfell. Robert Baratheon had also been guilty of his stupid desires to take her father to the south. Thinking about her father hurt. It hurt almost as much as thinking about Robb or her mother... But thinking about Rickon was even worse. Her little brother, her innocent little brother, murdered at the hands of that bastard. Knowing Bran was alive had been a relief. She had seen death and chaos, but the pain in Bran and Sansa's faces when she asked for Rickon had caused her more damage than all the weapons that had touched her body. She threw the dagger. Death had received her in her arms, she had given mercy as well as punishment. She had wanted to sit next to Jon, her brother seemed sad, with deep dark circles and not the happiness he deserved. But Arya understood. Death had been a gift to her, a way to bring justice home. But the dead had risen and death no longer seemed as attractive as before. No one would have looked death in the face and ignored it. No one would look at it as a natural thing that cannot be dodged. But she was Arya Stark of Winterfell. Jon must have thought it would be easy to see death, too. What else could it be? 

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"M'lady" Arya stuck her eyes but had a little smile on her face. 

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"Lord Baratheon" she answered. Gendry's mouth, with his face illuminated by torches, formed a grimace. 

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"Gendry" he answered. He sat next to her, on the stone stairs. 

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"Well, I'm Arya. Are you right?" She asked, Arya kept the dagger. She looked at Gendry's blue eyes, they seemed distant. 

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"I want to marry you" Oh. Arya loved Gendry. He was her first friend, she trusted him. She had experienced the sweetness of life with him, but a wedding? Living locked in a castle? Arya didn't want that life. She has never liked that things before, that wasn't her. 

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"Gendry. No. Don't interrupt me, listen to me. I love you, of course I love you, but I don't want to marry you. I don't want to live that life. You're the Lord of the Stormlands, you're going to need an heir, and I don't want to be the mother of anybody's children. I can't live that life." _And I need to kill a person. _Arya took his hands, as she spoke she looked at his the blue-eyed. "I can't live locked up. I need freedom."__

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__"And I don't want to be a Lord. I don't want that life either. Do you think I had force you to have children or do something you didn't want?" He asked._ _

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__"The lords would force you to have children. And without heirs, who will rule after your death? You know better than any of them what happens in wars. Who are the real victims." The innocent always paid. Wars ravaged the fields, created famines, destroyed the homes of the innocent. They were the ones who died while the lords got drunk in their castles._ _

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__"Do you think they'll listen to me? They have more respect for their horses." He answered. His voice seemed desperate, trying to get her to believe him. She knew that the Lords had more appreciation for their boots than for the people they ruled over, and she also knew that Gendry would put an end to that nonsense._ _

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__"They will when the Queen Targaryen sits in that ugly chair for which so many compete." _And rule over the North. _She thought bitterly. And then Arya understood. She should go tell Sansa, tell her she had found the solution, but Gendry's face, his eyes, prevented her from moving. _I have to talk to him about this. I have to tell him what's changed. _Besides, Sansa would be with Greyjoy. Arya didn't understand, but her sister's story had also been long._____ _

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___"No. They won't. They don't want me as their Lord and I don't want them either," he replied._ _ _

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___"You used to seem happy."_ _ _

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___"I think a princess wouldn't be allowed to marry a bastard." Gendry's face had picked up a red color, but it wasn't red as fire, even like blood. It was a pretty, soft red, more like pink, that dyed its cheeks and gave it a lovely look._ _ _

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___"That's why? You...but you'll be silly! If I wanted to get married, I'd marry you, whether you're Lord or not. You think I care about that?" Arya wouldn't admit it, but it hurt. Did her friend think he wasn't good enough for her for not having a silly title? Or worse, did he think she'd mind? "And I'm not a princess. Not since Jon bent his knee." She didn't mean Robb's death. Sometimes, at night, she could hear Freys screaming, she could see her brother's body with his direwolf's head._ _ _

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___"You don't. The Lords. They too will demand things from you" Was he using her own arguments against her? Arya shouldn't be smiling the way she did._ _ _

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___"Well, I don't care what the Lores say either." She answered. Gendry's face formed a pretty smile and from his lips was born a powerful laugh, a laugh that filled Winterfell's yard._ _ _

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___"Then?"_ _ _

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___"I told you. I don't want to marry you, or anyone else, I love you and I want you to be happy. But I have a lot of things to do to just get married." _I have to finish a list. I must bring justice to my family. _Gendry's smile became sympathetic and sad.___ _ _

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___"Even if you don't want to marry me, I hope you'll come visit me at my smith's place"_ _ _

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___"Not Storm's end?"_ _ _

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___"I don't know. I'd like to help those who are like me. But I still don't believe they respect me."_ _ _

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___"You can call me. I've killed a god, I can with some self-centered lords."_ _ _

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___"I want the to respect me, not be afraid of me."_ _ _

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___"If that's what you prefer." Gendry began to laugh and Arya soon accompanied him, forgetting death._ _ _

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Theon didn't know if it had been his cries that had awakened Sansa, or if he had woken up from her cries, but both had ended up hugged, lit by candles and tears on his cheeks. He was afraid, ironic, not to fear death, but he was afraid of a mortal, but that mortal had destroyed him and it had taken many dawns for him, Theon Greyjoy, to return. Dawns and people. There were little tears in his eyes, he felt them. Sansa's hands caressed his hair, made him feel safe and loved.

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"Sometimes, I feel like he's here. He will take everything from Theon again... that I'll go back to that place," Theon added. The words were hard to say, he noticed the little tears being born from his eyes and blinked, trying to keep Sansa from noticing them. He had confessed it to Yara, his sister had promised justice and blood and then, Euron had passed. Theon had appreciated her words, his sister loved him, in her own way, hard and direct, but it was genuine love. He'd like to see her again.

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"I understand it. I saw him die and yet I feel like it's all a game, that at least I waited for him, he'll show up and kill everyone I love before he captured me again."" Theon wanted to give her words of understanding, but a few concrete words prevented him. Did he misunderstood? Was it true? Hope was born in his heart, he had heard voices in the ports, but...

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"Did he die? Did you see him?" He asked her. There was doubts in his voice. He didn't want to set his hopes, maybe it was just his mind, changing her words to hear what he wanted... No, what he needed. It would be too pretty, too idyllic, a song that brought the monster's death.

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"Yes, haven't they told you?" She asked, a tone of doubt in her voice and conflict in her pretty blue eyes.

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"No. I heard rumors but nothing I believed. " He knew the Starks had recovered Winterfell, that was evident when he saw Jon and even more when he saw the Starks flags in Winterfell, but he had heard so many rumors, that Theon feared _he _would have escaped, that _he _was still free to harm him. Anger seemed to stain Sansa's eyes, though it lasted only an instant and the sweetness returned. Her hands took his face, her fingers caressing his cheeks gently and soft. She approached their faces and Theon feared getting lost in her eyes, though it would not be too cruel a fate____

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___"He died, I killed him. I remembered what you told me about his dogs, what they could do to us. I made sure he was locked in the kennels. He was covered in blood and his beasts hadn't eaten in a week. He had threatened to kill Jon and R-Rickon, allow them to be devoured while I watched. And I observed a death. They devoured his whole body, first it was his face. Then his neck, they had opened it, the blood fell and stained the ground. That attracted more beasts. His arms, his legs... All. His screams filled Winterfell's night, it was the first night in weeks, maybe months, that I had no nightmares. He disappeared."_ _ _

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___Theon couldn't believe it, _he _was dead. Actually, _he _was dead. The idea of waking up in the dungeons, the fear that everything he was living was not real but a simple creation of his mind to escape seemed like a distant fear. _He _, because Theon refused to think of that name, had died. Devoured by his own dogs. For those he was boasting about saying how loyal they were. Theon smiled, a laugh was born from his throat, laughter that became stronger the longer he lasted, mixed with tears of happiness and relief. He felt happy, safe and free. Even after escaping, even after arriving in the Islands, he had always feared that _he _would appear... to put him and Sansa back in place, that everything would be hell again. He had heard rumors, but he only believed it when Sansa confessed it to him. Theon knew that _he _had trained his beasts to cause as much damage as possible for the longest time, in a twisted way, they were smart enough to know how to cause harm without the victim dying.___________ _ _

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___"I wish you'd been there. It would have been wonderful. We could have done justice together. You deserved to see it." Sansa whispered. They shouldn't be so happy, but Theon couldn't help it. He tried to imagine it, the blood, his screams, his _fear _. Those thoughts weren't supposed to cause him that sense of security.___ _ _

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___"I told him he would disappear. and he told me he'd always be a part of me." Sansa squeezed her lips and stroked Theon's hand. He had taken off his gloves, none of them had anything to hide from the other... They had survived hell together. "But he disappeared, and you and I are here. Live. It's a victory." And Theon realized a terrible truth, a truth hidden among Sansa's words that made happiness smaller._ _ _

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___"Still, we'll still suffer, won't we? He will continue to be part of our memories and nightmares." The idea was terrifying, but true. Although, perhaps, now that he knew the truth it would be easier to escape fear. Sansa gave him a sad smile. Maybe nightmares would have compassion for one night._ __

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If it was up to her, Euron Greyjoy would have been dead for days, no, for weeks. On second thought, his corpse would have been rotting in the King's Landing walls for months... She should change the name of the city. She would does it after destroying the Dragon's slut and also the whore of Sansa Stark, that traitor.... She had raised her as a daughter, teaching her how to survive and that whore had paid for her with treason. Even if she hadn't killed her precious Joffrey, Cersei was sure Sansa Stark had something to do with it... The litle dove... She took another glass of wine and threw it to the ground.

"You mustn't drink, my queen." Qyburn said, "You're pregnant and it would be bad for the baby." For her child, for her baby, she had decided not to drink.

"Look at me, Maggy, look at me. Look how I avoid your prophecy." She had done everything she could to survive. She had understood that women were her enemies, all possible queens who would take away her crown, her throne. Her children. And, somehow, she was surrounded by women. Women and Euron Greyjoy. How did she find another Robert? Men were all the same. King's Landing smelled like shit and urine. Cersei could smell death and fear. Lady Tarly had brought the agreed resources, although they had changed the agreement after the burning of the crops by the dragon whore. Jaime... She missed him. He was the only one who had managed to please her. The only man she had agreed to give three children to. And he'd left her behind. But he'd come back, he'd always come back. They were born together and would die together. She lay down in bed, thinking about how he would beg for her. Cersei also thought about how she would destroy the remnants of the armies of the fucking Wolf-bitch and the whore of dragons. She had called the golden company and, moreover, the iron fleet was already around King's Landing. All the ships sported scorpions, weapons that the princess of Dorne had gladly facilitated. Much of the range armies, under the command of Lady Talla Tarly and the Stormlands, led by Lady Argella Horpe. The armies of the West would arrive soon, as would that of the Dornish. While it is true that the dornishs preferred the cunning war to the frontal, they were experts in scorpions... and Dorne had already killed a dragon, one much larger than that of the Targaryen Queen. 

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The night at King's Landing cooled down every day they spent, the Starks had been right, winter was approaching Westeros. Cersei Lannister saw her city and she smiled. No one, not even the whore of dragons or the Wolf-bitch, would take away what she had achieved with blood, tears and fire. Even if it hadn't been her blood it had been her tears. That morning she had visited the alchemists. The black dress was tight to her body, she didn't wear gold or silver and she was guarded by Ser Robert heading to the cells. They had closed all the passageways they had found, the same passageways that the Imp escaped after killing their father, making sure they couldn't spy on her. The alchemists were in the dungeons, testing the last fires with the prisoners. Queen Lannister wasn't stupid enough to allow the creation of wildfire in her castle, but other fires did... Small amounts of painful fires that quickly destroyed the victims' bodies or prolonged their pain depends on what she wanted. 

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"My queen." An alchemist had said. He was small and thin, hands full of blisters and wounds. His teeth were uneven and there were two or three blacks. Cersei had not bothered to remember his name. "Have we awakened you with his cries?"

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"No. I wanted to make sure you kept the bottles in the dungeons. Are you sure everything will work?" She had checked the power of wildfire, but still had doubts about the new fires. 

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"That's right, my lady. A single fuse, and the whole the Red Keep will be destroyed... the iron throne included."

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_Wonderful. _Cersei had thought. And it was still wonderful. They wouldn't take away her throne, even if the price was her life. The city looked beautiful, in a terrible way, but beautiful. Too bad she wasn't going to let that beauty go to someone other than her or her baby. She stroked her belly with a smile, the first smile of absolute happiness she had had since the death of her children. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen... She wouldn't name the baby after them, her baby couldn't replace them. Instead, she had thought of naming her baby Joanna, after her mother. Cersei Lannister had done horrible things, but she had all done them for his family. She had gone from Queen Consort, to Queen Regent, to Queen Mother to Queen for her own right of conquest. And her daughter would be her heiress. On five moons, just five moons, her baby would be born.__

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	2. SOL NEGRO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events in this chapter take place between different times. Also, Alannys Harlaw lives in this fic (as you can see in the new tags) in this chapter isn't important, but it's important in my hearth (and in the future plot) Some characters who have a alliance with Cersei have bad thoughs about Daenerys and Sansa, so be cautious. And, Sansa and Arya have the conversation they need (because "It's a long story" isn't enough.)

#  BLACK SUN 

#### (WINTERFELL)

Even in Winter, Dorne was sunny and hot, an area with little rain, only the enough, except for the coasts. However, that winter seemed to forget all logic. Alyse Yronwood had tried, unsuccessfully, to find dresses that were not made of silk, luckily her sister had been intelligent and had ordered different materials to shelter. Lady Argella Horpe, Lady of the Stormlands, had given them the clothes and the resources needed to survive the winter. It had been part of the trade agreement between Dorne and the Crown. A loyalty between her land and the iron throne that Alyse did not understand... but her sister commanded and she obeyed. She had been told her, they were a united alliance against the North, the Vale, the Riverlands and their Dragon Queen. A union against the Dragon Queen and her wolf-dogs. Although Alyse could not see the difference between being the dog of a dragon or the dog of a lioness.

She had been traveling for more than a week and still the rain blinded her eyes and the cold freezed her bones. The cold caused wounds to her hands. Alyse felt her fingers could break at any time, skinned and static. She had tried to wrap them in fabrics and, although it had helped, it had not been enough. One of her companions began coughing, it was a hoarse and painful sound. They had been traveling for fourteen nights, but she hadn't gotten used to it yet. Neither to the sound, nor to the cold, or to the rain... That wasn't a normal winter... anyone could say it. 

They had planned to get away from the coast, cross the desert she knew... of course, it hadn't been a smart decision. Were the threat and warning whispers that ran through the kingdoms real? They had the same meaning as those stories that told how Lady Stark poisoned Joffrey Baratheon and escaped in the form of a wolves. Alyse was hurt when the smallfolk whispered stories of how the sun had fallen with the Martells, as the sun had turned black and brought storm because of the Yronwoods (even if Ellaria Sand had been the firts who killed the dornish prince) But only the people, not the nobility that helped the despair not consume it. 

The horses moved quickly on the wet sand because, unlike their riders, they were horses trained for that time, as they had been raised near the coast. They were different from those normally used in Dorne, but more effective now. More effective when the rain seemed to have no end. It wasn't all horrible. Unlike at other times, when the drought destroyed their minds and bodies, they now possessed water whenever they needed it and could move during the day, rather than dying from the overwhelming heat of the sun. The only thing that hadn't changed were the sandstorms, the wind kept creating them, dangerous and harmful, the sand hurt their faces, damaged their eyes causing tears. But she was a princess of Dorne. She must have been strong. She should have been accompanied by more than ten people, but that group was already attracting enough attention to take more chances. Her sister, the ruling princess, Dyanna, had insisted that she be accompanied by more people but she had refused, Dorne did not have many defenses and if that encounter was a trap, they would need as many forces as possible. Both had argued. Dyanna said that, if it were a trap, it should be accompanied by an army. And Alyse agreed, but she didn't tell her sister. Dorne needed more the army than she did. And she trusted her people to protect her.

Alyse smiled when she divided the settlement of the Wyl house into Dorne's marches. More than castle or fortress, the Wyls habited in caves. Wide and dangerous, unworthy of a princess... but they had food, fire and roof. Alyse thought that was enough. Besides, they were loyal. She spurred her horse, encouraging the animal to go faster. Alyse heard the footsteps of the horses behind her, but paid no attention to them. The Wyls knew of their arrival, had been warned, and even if they had not received their letters, much of Dorne had been aware of the arrival of emissaries Tarly and Lannister, of the change of government in Dorne. Voices had already been raised against Ellaria Sand, for she had no legitimacy to rule Dorne. And then she had joined a Targaryen. She had joined the sister of the man who humiliated Elia Martell (even if Alyse did not appreciate the Martells, what Rhaegar did had been ruthen... and political nonsense) The Targaryen had tried to conquer Dorne with their dragons too many times and Dorne had bled too much. And then they had joined the North, the place where Lyanna Stark came from, the woman over whom a dornishwoman was chosen.

Cersei Lannister was not better alternative, her father had allowed the murder of Rhaenys, Elia and Aegon, had allowed Dorne's humiliation. Cersei Lannister had killed her allies, what assured them that she would not repeat it? And yet Dyanna had allied them with the Queen Lioness Alyse didn't understand it, but she obeyed her sister. If it were up to Alyse, Dorne wouldn't ally itself with any of the queens. They didn't need them, they could survive just by joining with the free cities, the Summer Islands and Essos. Targaryens and Lannister. They both wanted the same thing. But Lannister had killed Ellaria Sand. She came to the Wyl's caves and Lady Wyl's smile, confirmed everything Alyse believed.

They had to store food and go unnoticed so, to Alyse's disappointment, there was no banquet or singers. They settled for spiced goat, Alyse smiled at feeling the burning of spicy on her tongue before drinking milk from a glass of mud. She smiled at one of her companions: Tereshe Sand, her bastard niece. She had the same warm black eyes as Dyanna, but her clear curls must have belonged to her father.

"Do you think they'll kill us?" Direct. Tereshe took a sip of milk, calm. Like if she asked her for more goat instead of asking about their deaths. Instead of hinting at a betrayal.

"She killed her allies. I don't trust her," Alyse said. Tereshe was only five years younger than her and although she was Dyanna's daughter, when she looked her in the eye, Alyse understood who Tereshe looked most like. _She doesn't look like Dyanna. She's like me. And I don't know if that's good or bad. _"But your mother does. And she's your princess. We owe her obedience."__

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"I know what my mother thinks. And now, I know what you think." Simple but dangerous words. 

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"Don't disobey your mother. Cersei Lannister is dangerous. But I'd rather be her ally to her enemy." Alyse held her niece's hand. She knew how to control herself, would her niece do it? 

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"A lot of people are angry." _I know. _She wanted to admit it because, not for the first time, she began to doubt Dorne's contempt for Ellaria Sand. "Do you know what they say? Doran's daughter, Arianne-__

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"She died" Alyse did not let Tereshe continue. For many reasons. Fear, guilt, betrayal. And because Lady Wyl came up with a smile. Sweet eyes but malicious smile. What did the truth show in that woman? She couldn't say. But she smiled. The Wyls were loyal, they had supported her house since the first revolt to return the Yronwoods to power. She couldn't doubt it. Not now. Alyse's eyes focused on Tereshe. Her niece's black eyes seemed closer to night than to obsidian. She has never been afraid of her, and Alyse hoped, she hadn't made a mistake.

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#### (A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS)

Dyanna had put a cape on her shoulders (the shawl had not been helpful in protecting her from the cold) but she was not warm enough yet. Winter had come to Dorne and brought rain and wind. The snow hadn't arrived yet, but it wouldn't take long... never took long. If Queen Cersei Lannister's words were true, the Westerlands had been dressed in white for months. Time was hardly a mention, a subtle phrase treated unimportantly in that letter she had sent her so long ago. 

_Princess Dyanna Yronwood, ruler of Dorne_

_Aspirant Targaryen has abandoned the fight for the throne. She's fled north. We've lost large amounts of food but Lady Tarly still believes she can collect the necessary food. I remember the riots. The agreed amount will be sent to you. Bring the scorpions, princess. Bring them, because otherwise when she comes back she will ravage our cities, along with the bastard of the North and the monster they have for Lady, that woman who killed my son. Snow dominates my land. For now, just one, but if we don't hurry, both will. And also in yours lands. Bring your weapons. I command you as queen and as an ally. At the next congress, we'll decide how to attack. If you want to preserve your crown and your kingdom, obey. You can't choose to be on the sidelines. Not this time. This is not the war of the five kings. This is worse._

_Queen Cersei Lannister. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, queen of the Andals, the first men and rhoynars, protector of the kingdom, Lady of the Westerlands and legitimate ruler of Westeros._

She wrinkled the letter again. How many times had she read it? More than ten, she was sure. A memory of what she was risking and what she was up against. It had been more than two weeks since Alyse and Tereshe had left. Dyanna had played to be safe in front of them, wasn't that how she felt? That it was all an unimportant game? If she faked that, she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't feel like she'd sent her sister and daughter to certain death. She wanted to throw up. Dyanna drowned out tears. She must have been strong, she was the oldest, the princess. The one that had started the revolution. If she failed, what would become of her sisters? What about her daughters? But what good was the triumph, if those whom she loved most died? She had already prepared the scorpions, had taken care of storing food but they needed more. Of course, they had the sea and the ports, Dorne and the free cities had always been closely united and with close marriage and commercial ties. But free cities couldn't provide everything Dorne needed to survive the winter.

The ladies and lords of Dorne had sent representatives to choose how to act. Nine guards had been chosen for her sister (all from minor houses connoisseurs of the fight, they were not stupid enough to send them a dozen of hostages... but not so much as to send peasants and have Queen Cersei feel insulted.) Tereshe had volunteered. She had put her sword in Alyse's service and asked Dyanna for permission to protect her Aunt Alyse. Dyanna had accepted... but she would have told her no if she had asked her alone and not in front of the representatives. And then she hadn't been able to change her mind. She had to stay strong and firm. Mer always told her it was good to acknowledge mistakes, but Mer didn't understand the pressure, she didn't understand how hard it was to seem strong when she just wanted to cry in her mother's arms and go back to when everything was easier. She can't revolutionize a country and then repent. Everyone would be disappointed and no one would trust her again.

_Don't cry_ She thought. _Not now. Do it at night, when you're alone. When the darkness embraces you and you can go back to the past. Not before._ With a silk handkerchief, she she shed tears. She dyed her steel eyes, raised her head and straightened her back. The princess went out into the courtyard of her castle. They had already sent a thousand scorpions (weeks before Alyse partiesed) to King's Landing. They had prepared fifty scorpions in the settlement of their home but, of course, they were not the only ones. There were similar numbers in each castle, necessary to protect their cities. If Cersei Lannister failed, Dorne would be the next kingdom in the conquest of Daenerys Targaryen... although the Stormlands and the Reach would fall sooner. And she'd be ready. She had heard stories of Queen Targaryen and the Starks. Stories about how they controlled that beast, the Targaryen the dragons and the Starks, their direwolves, and they razed the the fields, as the Starks became wolves and murdered humans. The people talked about Sansa Stark becoming a wolf and devouring her husband alive. It was nonsense, but she wouldn't take any chances. Moreover, fear was always the basis of betrayals. If her people thought they were more powerful... The Redwynes had already confronted Lady Tarly, but anyone knew it was more revenge on behalf of Lady Olenna than out of loyalty to the Targaryen. 

But Queen Targaryen and the Starks were not the ones who caused her the most trouble. Her spies spoke of a woman in the free cities with the Martell flag gathering an army. People whispered about that woman who was passing through Arianne Martell. The nobility knew Arianne had died, but the smallfolk could believe it and obey her. And some of the Ladies and Lord could pretend she was the real one. They despised Ellaria, but Dorne loved Arianne Martell. And she feared that, like herself, the young woman who called herself Arianne would start a rebellion against her. In revenge for the Martells... The War of the Five Kings seemed to repeat itself... with queens instead of kings. It was fun, in a destructive and twisted way. The gods seem to have fun playing with the minds of mortals. Guilt attacked Dyanna, what was the difference between her and the gods? She played with her sister and daughter. Did the gods also feel guilty about the death and destruction they caused? 

"My princess." Areles Vaith. She had a sweet, childish voice, she was a seven-year-old girl with bright, kind eyes. Second daughter of Lady Loreza Vaith. And her hostage. The Vaiths had confronted their home and she had take their daughter to avoid rebellions. Ironic, let her take a hostage to avoid what she herself had done. Hypocrite. Weak. Dyanna didn't know how dare she look her in the eye. She could pretend to be strong in front of her ladies, but not so much. "Princess Valeyna has asked you to visit her. She needs you to talk." And now, they were using her as a messager. She knew the reason for her sister's call. Now, Valeyna only deigned to talk with her for two reasons: The provisions for the winter. And fight the marriage that had been arranged for her. Dyanna hoped it would be the firts thing. 

"Don't worry, Areles. I'll be right there, I need to talk to my counselors first. Where's Neth?" Dyanna had ordered Neth to play with the girl, although her daughter had been distant with Areles. No one in her family was happy with the change? If so, what good had it been? It had only brought destruction. And there was no turning back.

"In her private room." Areles said. Hes eyes were kind and full of fear. Of course. Fear brought hate. _Have I only made mistakes? This girl hates me, and when she is older...what? Another rebellion will begin? And later then? More hostages? It's a circle of hate and fear._

"Go to your room and rest." When Areles left, Dyanna leaned her forehead against the cold stone. She made blood when she hit the wall, but she didn't care. What else did she give, if everyone she loved hated her or was going to die? What did it matter, if the war drums would soon start playing? She had to be strong, or at least she had to look like if she was. The armor that had taken years to build disappeared quickly. Better alone, than surrounded by her ladies... Even if she were killed now, Dyanna thought Dorne would be happier.

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#### (A KNIGHT OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS)

The axe was stained with blood but Yara Greyjoy had a smile on her lips while another man kissed her real husband. The body fell into the sea. She did not have time to react, for another man (one of those his uncle Euron had left to protect the islands) attacked her. He was older than her, slow and stupid. She stuck her axe in his neck, quickly, Yara pulled out her real son and stuck him in her opponent's eyes. Although rival was a very srtong word for the man. She pulled the dagger out of his eyes and threw the body to the sea. At least they'd have a death with the Drowned God. Yara didn't think she'd be so merciful when Euron died. That bastard didn't deserve that sweet death. She spat on the boat's floor. The taste of iron in her mouth and reddish blood on the wood. Theon (and the men her baby brother had assembled to save her, along with others who had joined him) had gone north. She needed to go to the Islands... it hadn't been easy. They had had to travel the Dorne Sea and later for the Summer Sea, unfortunately Euron's ships were on the east coast and she had needed to go to the west coast to recover her islands. 

It had taken sixteen dawns to arrive, the storms and cold had made it difficult for them to travel. They had survived crossing Dorne Sea, because they had not taken any risk and had chosen to move away from the ports. They had encountered a pirate ship (of course, she and her iron men had won) but they believed they were lost, when in the distance they glimpsed Redwyne's fleet. She had taken her axe, ready to die fighting, when they saw a white flag. They exchanged quick and simple words. Each fleet went its way, when they discovered they were not enemies. The Redwynes hated Cersei and Yara hated anyone who allied with Euron. They did not ask the reasons, but knowing that Westeros' two biggest fleets were allied would not do Cersei and Euron any favours. And it would help Daenerys. Yara had ignored the warmth in her chest, had no time to think of the queen with a beautiful smile and bright eyes.

Yara and her loyalies had stormed Euron's ships at night, camouflaged by darkness, but the battle had lasted until dawn. It had been a massacre. Body after body fell overboard, but with each dead, another appeared to fight her. She was almost killed once. But she had survived. She jumped and placed herself on the poop deck, rising above her men and women. The ship desk was full of blood, the figures struggled, dancing in a deadly dance desperate to survive.

"I know what Euron promised you!" Yara's voice was loud and powerful, she didn't seem to have been controlled by nightmares the last few nights, it didn't seem like she had a whole day without sleep and all night in a bloody dance. "Glory, blood, power. But what has he achieved? What has he given you, when you have lost everything?" Yara screamed. She had few ironborns, for much of her people were with Euron. However, there were few in the Islands. They had chosen to defend the Lioness Queen over her people, only because Euron slept with her. The queen's whore, that was Euron Greyjoy. There were those who kept fighting, Yara could hear the shock of metals, the dance in which her people fought. Not in salons, but on the battlefield. A cold, bloody dance, hard as they were. But some people heard it. The servants, the obligated, the tired elders. Many had stopped fighting, though not all.

Apart from the Servants of Euron, the children, the elderly, fishermen, women who did not fight and the sick remained on the islands. And goats. There was always some goat left. But many warriors were listening to her now. Yara hoped her people would accept that choosing Euron had been a mistake. She felt the glances on her face and she refused to wipe the blood from her cheek. Let them see her. Let them see that she was as iron's daughter as they were.

"He gave us independence." Someone screamed. She didn't know who. She didn't care either.

"Really? And, tell me, where's your king? Why do you obey a lioness? Why are you protecting her? He says he's given you independence, but you've only changed owners. Our people continue to obey the iron throne." Her voice was scratchy and sharp. The sound of steel dance was mixed with the sea wind, as well as the roar of the waves and whispers of its people were almost indistinguishable. "He has abandoned you. Those who left you here find you useless. Expendable for his plans. And to those who sent you back here, he did not do so because he considered you strong, it was not a mission to prove your worth. He sent you here, because Euron believes you would be a snever in protecting King's Landing, because he cares more about the inhabitants of the green lands than about our people." Whispers began to grow, roars of anger and indignation filled the ship where she had been fighting. Nearby ships also began to fill with screams. Yara allowed herself a smile. The voices of her men and women ruled the sea, had attacked their pride and put her people against her uncle had been deliciously satisfying. "I promise you I will give you independence if you follow me. Because I've already made it. Daenerys Targaryen promised us independence. We just have to stop looting and rape." Daenerys Targaryen, closer to the sea than anyone Yara had ever known. Beautiful and dangerous, but protective with her people. Yara wasn't afraid of the sea, and that included Daenerys. 

Her uncle Euron thought he was stronger than her. That he was a god. And it wasn't. Euron had underestimated her and Theon. _No. Don't about your brother. Don't think about how he's heading for his certain death_ If it depended on Yara, her baby brother would have come home to the Iron Islands to live by the sea. But, for reasons she could not understand, and perhaps never would, he had chosen to go north. If it depended on Yara, her baby brother would have come home to the Iron Islands to live by the sea. But, for reasons she could not understand, and perhaps never would, he had chosen to go north.

"We've followed the old way. And look where it's taken us. Many of you remember my grandfather, Quellon Greyjoy, the islands have never been so rich. We are ironborn, children of the sea, we can travel the seas that no one has ever sailed before. But first, we have to rise again. Stronger and harder. Euron Greyjoy has betrayed what we believe. He's sold us and used us." Yara screamed. She raised her axe, still stained with blood. She couldn't hear the metal anymore. "I wish blood. I desire justice. He killed my father, your king. She held me prisoner. He's played with you. I demand justice! I demand revenge! May the drowned God judge him! May our God judge that kinslayer!" Yara smiled. First, it was a soft voice, then small whispers down the bow of the ship. But the whispers grew. Until only one name was heard throughout the fleet. "Yara!" "Yara!" "Yara!"

Of course, there were people who still wanted to follow the old way. But there would be time to change and guide her people to the new way. She wouldn't be alone, she'd have her Uncle Rodrick with her, her mother, her loyalies... and Theon. If her brother had fortunate enough to survive.

_Drowned God you have allowed him to live for too long to allow him to die now. Don't let my baby brother die far from the sea._ She prayed. They couldn't attack Euron at the time. The boats were wrecked, their people hungry and exhausted (she herself needed to rest, though she would never admit it to anyone) but they could not waste time. Euron wasn't very smart, but he wasn't dumb enough to stay in King's Landing if he got the news that she had reclaimed the islands. 

"Vyck!" Vyckean Ornwood was one of the closest women to Yara. Loyal, intelligent and able to cut off a head as quickly as an apple. Ornwood approached, a snug smile and ugly scars from her cheeks.

"Tell me, captain. Or queen?" She asked with evident enjoyment for their victory. Her hands were full of blood and Yara owed Vyck her life. She had saved Yara from one of Euron's men. _There are still traitors. Some of them are still loyal too Euron, even if they are screaming my name._

"Send a crow to my uncle. Tell him I have been captured." The bewilderment in Vyck's face only increased Yara's smile.

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#### (ACTUAL TIME LINE)

She closed the door gently, inadvertently waking Theon up. It was early, the dawn had not yet begun, although it would take little time. She planned to send the letters to Lord Tully and Lord Arryn, to finalize trade agreements and report on their family's situation. The master wasn't supposed to be awake, but she couldn't afford to waste her time.

"Sansa." Her voice caught her off guard, unfortunately, the letters she held in her hands fell to the stone floor. Sansa told as a victory that no scream or noise had come out of her mouth. 

Sansa snrang her eyes before crouching down and picking up the letters. When her sister crouched down to help her pick them up, with a mocking smile on her face, Arya's shirt got up, it wasn't much, just enough for Sansa to see the scars.

Arya must have noticed her look. Long, deep scars on her stomach. Dirty and irregular scars... It hurt that they weren't the worst Sansa'd ever seen. Arya pulled down her shirt, trying to cover the scar, and refused to look at Sansa. Instead, after handing over the letters she had collected, Arya leaned on one of the walls and pretended that the nascent light of the oil lamps was more interesting. The shadows danced and disappeared, the darkness devoured the light, although they had already overcome death.

"How did you get them?" Sansa was not even aware of the words that were born from her mouth. It took her a while to make sense of the lyrics and understand the meaning of that phrase, though she did not repent. They had not told their stories for fear of death but had survived and she did not feel able to survive without understanding her sister. 

Arya still did not look at her, the shadows concealed her expression but she could see the movements of her shoulders and elbows, so her little sister was playing with her dagger. Sansa waited patiently. The stories were difficult and dangerous, they granted power and control, they could bring out the worst fears of people as well as their dreams of the past. A story helped you understand how people changed, why they weren't like they used to be now. Sansa had understood Bran's change, knowing the stories would have broken him if he had followed it. Though he seemed more cheerful and bright after the death of the Night King. 

Arya's voice, hoarse and sharp, drew her from her thoughts. It was a whisper, but Sansa was close enough to hear her sister. 

"I told you it was a long story. I survived a lot so I could be who I am." Sansa did not speak, encouraging her little sister to continue. "They forced me to forget my name. I stopped being Arya, daughter of Eddard and Catelyn. I had to be Arry and Weasel, I became No one and No one was Mercy... But I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell." Arya turned around, there were tears in her gray eyes but they were still fierce. "When they killed father, they put me through Arry, an orphan who went to the Wall. Death came up and tried to kiss me." Arya hesitated, seemed indecisive between speaking or not, but she should have chosen to shut up. Sansa wouldn't force her to talk about the parts of the past she didn't want.

"I'm sorry." She held her hand and stroked her gently. Arya shook her head. 

"In Harrenhal I was Weasel, I saw horrors and death came again. I met Tywin Lannister, he saw that I was a girl... but he didn't see I was a Stark. I saved three lives and became the Ghost of Harrenhal. No one owed me those three lives and I charged them, bringing death to three people. I wish I'd mentioned Lord Baelish." When she mentioned No one, Sansa saw the conflict settle into her sister's gray eyes. Sansa chose to ignore the mention of Lord Baelish. "I escaped and joined the Brotherhood without banners. They betrayed me, they sold my friend to the Red Woman. And the Hound kidnapped me." Tears were born uncontrolled but Arya made no noise other than her words. They were silent, painful tears. "And I saw the massacre. Robb and Greywind's body." The voice was shearing and sharp steel, it was a hard voice that reminded of war... or the consequences of war. "We fled. He wanted to send me to Aunt Lysa, but as soon as I could, I ran away. I abandoned him, wishing for his death... And I ended up on a boat. I was Salty and went into exile in Braavos. There, I kissed death and became No One, but every night, a voice would come back whispering my name." Arya looked down and stroked her stomach. "I tried to run away... And they sent one of them to kill me. That's why I have these scars. She was able to catch up with me and stabbed me." Sansa wanted to cry for her sister, she wanted to hug her and promise her that everything would be all right. But they were no longer girls and no longer had nightmares about invisible monsters, their monsters were very real... even the ones who were dead. And Sansa didn't think of the blue-skinned ones or her relatives she'd seen in the crypts. Those she'd seen rise. 

"Once, two, three...how many times?" Arya's voice trembed. "I thought I'd die." She looked down and approached the wall, seemed to want to disappear, become one with darkness. 

"Arya... If you think you can't -- " She shouldn't have asked, it was a mistake to open her cell's past. Her sister shook her head.

"No. I'd rather go on. I think it will make it easier to forget... or endure remembrance." 

"If you need to stop... I don't want to force you to remember..." Why she started this situation?

"Memories will still be, even if I set out to hide them." Arya closed her eyes and, after tears were dry, reopened them. "Blade after blade, I felt life slip away from me. I didn't want to die. Death had whispered to me before, and I had chosen to kiss her, but I had never touched by the death like this. I didn't feel ready." Arya stopped, couldn't her little sister bear the pain of remembrance? Sansa approached gently, touched Arya's arm and, when Arya looked at her, approached her, even with the letters, Sansa wrapped her arms over her body and soon felt her sister's arms on her. "I ended up in a river... An actress saved my life. Twice. When she cured me... and when my killer came back. "Whisper the words, there is no more steel, there is pain and loss." I killed her... They said I was No one, but the same men who had trained me to see the truth didn't see that I was Arya Stark. After that, I stopped being afraid of death. Nothing could be worse, could it?" Arya parted, her dagger over her hip and her arms hugging. "I went back to Westeros... And I killed them. I killed all the Freys men, all the traitors who participated in Robb and Mother's murder."

Sansa had heard stories about how the gods had punished the Freys. First, the Riverlands had been filled with trees with hangers ("Madness dominated them. Guilt tampered with their ears, manipulated their sight, and conquered their mind. Death was the only way out." they said.) And then Lady Frey was the only survivor of a massacre. "Winter has come" Were the words she repeated to the one who asked her. Now, it all made sense

"Do you think it was wrong?" The question came out of Arya's lips quickly. Feeling they struggled in her eyes and Sansa wanted to understand them.

"It was justice. If it had been revenge, Lady Frey would have died." Blood for blood. The answer seemed to calm Arya. 

"And then I went back to Winterfell" and they both knew what had happened next.

"What about you?" Arya asked. Her voice had softened, she should not look so much like the voice that she had used it in that conversation after the death of Lord Baelish. Sansa preferred to think it was the voice Arya used when she wanted more sweets when they were kids.

"Joffrey turned out to be exactly like his supposed father." _He is nothing like the king's drunk. _How innocent she had been, believing that he would not be like the king.__

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"Like King Robert? But he... did he hit you?" Those words were as sharp as the dagger she carried in her hands. 

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"His knights did it for him." _And they stripped me naked in front of the whole court._ But Arya didn't have to know that. It had been humiliating. "None of them were a true knight. Every time Robb won a battle... they found it amusing, a reminder that he had power over the North." Sansa ignored the sting of tears. She ignored how monsters opened the walls of her mind and assaulted her thoughts, returning memories of cruel laughter and evil gazes "He stopped doing it when Margaery arrived. She stopped him." Her voice trembed as she mentioned Margaery, knowing of her death had been painful especially in discovering how she died. Who killed her. 

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"Margaery?" 

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"Margaery Tyrell. Joffrey's betrothed... They didn't think I was a suitable queen for him. I was married to another Lannister instead. A Lannister who would eventually reign over Winterfell." She did not mention that it was Tyrion Lannister, although many people should be aware of her imposed marriage. 

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"But you escaped" 

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"At Joffrey's wedding. He died and -- I didn't know what to feel. I felt I cry with happiness but he died after drinking from his cup of wine...and that very morning I had wanted him to drown on wine. It seemed that the gods had heard one of my prayers." Sansa saw a twinkle of joy in Arya's eyes. The satisfaction of that monster's death. "They were not gods. It was Lady Olenna Tyrell" Sansa never forgave Olenna Tyrell. "And the same person who started the whole war." The satisfaction in Arya's eyes for remembering Joffrey's death changed to hatred. It wasn't too hard to know who she was talking about. 

____

"I had been given a necklace with amethysts...they were poisoned. They put one in the wine. And I escaped. I ended up in the Vale, with Lord Baelish and Aunt Lysa. I escaped from some murderers in my family to take out others. He kissed me" Sansa felt like throwing up, wanting to lock herself up and cry. "And Aunt Lysa saw him. She threatened to kill me... was about to actually do it. And she confessed everything. She confessed how Lord Baelish and she had sent a letter to mother and father about how the Lannisters had killed Lord Arryn. But it was her, she killed him." She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she leaned against the cold stone wall. Stone. Was there no way to escape? Even when they were all dead... even when there was only one left.

____

"Our Aunt Lysa?" Pain. Sansa had felt it too. If her own aunt has willing to kill her, if she was expendable to her aunt, how would the rest see her? She had hated her aunt, but many things had changed.

____

"Yes... But he manipulated her too. Lord Baelsih... He did it with everyone." _We were about to fall into his game._ Sansa thought. "She organized Lord Arryn's death and yet I can't hate her. Lord Baelish manipulated her." Arya's gray eyes opened when she realized. Anger threw her gaze (as always when someone mentioned Cersei)

____

"Then, because of them..." Her voice was hoarse, the warmth and compression were gone. She gripped her fists, her fingers clinging to the handle of the dagger. 

____

"Robert Baratheon went to the North. And we to the South." Sansa nodded. She didn't think she was enough strong to say the what happenned later. 

____

"And Father died. How can you forgive her? How can you not hate her?" There was anger and despair in Arya's voice. Sansa couldn't blame her. She asked herself at times, perhaps, a part of her would always hold a grudge against her.

____

"I have not said that I have forgiven her. I just can't hate her. Lord Baelish manipulated her. Aunt Lysa didn't put a dagger around father's neck, she didn't shout the order and didn't cut off his head. I know she get blood on her hands, but less than others." Sansa wouldn't try to convince Arya to understand her empathy for their aunt, but she hoped Arya would understand why she couldn't hate her. Not when her aunt had only been another of Lord Baelish's many victims, like her. Sansa understood her. She knew it was being manipulated by a man who claimed to love you. "I had to lie...deceive the Lords of the Vale into not discovering me. After all, I was accused of murdering the prince And then..."Blood, pain, lies, chaos, death. "He sold me a monster." She didn't want to talk about what he did. She didn't want to devote a second of her thoughts to him beyond the memory of how he died. "He did horrible things to me. I thought I'd die. I came to think that death would be a better solution. And Theon saved me. Thanks to him I was able to escaped." Arya raised her eyebrows, a glow of compression in her eyes. "I went to the Wall with Lady-Ser Brienne. We couldn't save R-Rickon, but Jon and I got Winterfell back. Recovering Winterfell was not worth it, Ramsay's death... Nothing. We thought we hadn't lost our whole family."

____

"But we're still here. The pack remains united." Arya's words comforted Sansa. Yes, part of it was still safe. "By the way, it would be helpful if, when the war was over, you asked for another poison necklace." Arya said with a trembling smile.

____

"A necklace would draw too much attention. A hairnet on the other hand..." Sansa knew it was a joke to cheer them up. She herself had noticed the bitterness in her voice. She was ashamed to think it might be a good idea.

____

"By the way, the reason I came to see you before was that --" Sansa interrupted her, she already knew she wanted to tell her her little sister.

____

"Yes, I think you and...Gendry, that's what he was called, right? I think you'll be very happy together. Your eyes have shone when I mentioned his name. A marriage might be a little quick but-" 

"I didn't want to talk about it!" Arya was red. Her voice sounded sharper than normal, but she had a smile on her face. And her eyes were shining. Her little sister was clearly in love.

Oh, didn't you? That had been disappointing.

"No. I wanted to tell you that I already knew how to get independence from the North, get rid of Cersei and make Jon's queen happy." Sansa assumed those were excellent news, too. Sansa's lips formed a smile.

"I hear you." Sansa said. She couldn't waste her time, but in the long run, that conversation might be more beneficial to them.


	3. LOST SOULS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /TW/ Anxiety attack. Please, read with precauttion.  
> /TW/ Suicide mention. Suicide thoughs. It's one, but, please, precaution. 
> 
> I know the statues are usually just for the King Stark/Lord of Winterfell, but if Lyanna has one, so is Rickon.

# LOST SOULS 

TW: Anxiety attack

Daenerys smiled, it wasn't an authentic smile, it was a fake one. Like all the smiles she had created in that place as cold as cruel. A strong smile that did not reach her tired eyes, but her friend was so happy that she couldnot show her sadness. She felt terribly guilty, wanted to rejoice for Missandei and her happiness. Her friend's smile was authentic, it shone with a special light and there was happiness in her eyes. Missandei's voice was sweet in recounting her plans and, although Daenerys was terribly tired, because she had woken up before dawn, she listened intently.

"Grey Worm and I have talked about going to my land, to Naath. Butterflies protect us from pirates, but with them there, the butterflies will no longer be necessary. They will not harm them, our God will understand that they only want to protect us." Her people were one of peace, as she had told Daenerys. And Missandei had not lost their customs and traditions, for she did not eat meat and was always horrified at violence.

Both women were in the Great Hall of Winterfell, breaking the fast near the fireplaces partly because of the cold but also because Jon and Tyrion. Missandei had agreed to Daenerys' request to eat away from them. Even after her promises to the gods (if there were, for her dreams, though riddled with the salt kiss's maiden, had not provided her rest), she was not yet strong enough to confront Jon or endure Tyrion. She was right, having faith in the gods had never helped her, only her. It had been a mistake.

The North was a cold place and distand as its inhabitants but Daenerys appreciated its food. The milk was warm and the honey sweetened it. The rations were a little small, but she was afraid it would become addictive to those honey-coated oatmeal cookies. Sweet and simple, they brought her memories of the past, from a simpler time where her worries were innocent and people protected her. Now, she was supposed to be the protector. The Mother of her people. 

"When I conquer the throne, I will give you a ship. All the Unsullied who want to follow you will be able to leave this land." Sadness invaded Daenerys' heart, she didn't want to feel alone again, she didn't want the people she loved to abandon her. She didn't want Missandei to leave, but her friend was free and she could leave Westeros if she want. Her friend must have noticed her sadness, because Missandei grabbed her hand and squeezed it fondly.

"Don't worry, Your Grace. We'll visit you. But I need to know that it's been my people's, I miss Naath, its white sandy beaches and the warm sun." Missandei's voice was tinged with longing and a light, between bitterness and hope, settled in her eyes. Her voice faltered. "Perhaps, I can see my mother again." The last words were a whisper, a longing.

Mother. Daenerys hoped Missandei could see her mother, her friend had confessed to her that she was not know of her fate. Missandei had seen her brothers and father die, but there was hope that her mother would still live in Naath. She herself knew what it was like to lose her family. If she, who had never met her mother, felt a void inside her, if every time she thought of her thousands of claws they scratched her heart and the pain born of the loss drowned her, how should Missandei feel? Daenerys understood that need to find a home, couldn't take it from her friend, and could only wish her all the luck.

"I hope you both are going to be happy and I'd like you and your mother to see each other again." It would be so beautiful, a reunion between two separate souls for years, with doubt as to whether the other will still be alive. Home... Daenerys smiled, even if she wanted to cry. Maybe she could see a house with the red door. Maybe she could feel loved. She just wanted a home and Cersei Lannister had taken it from her as Robert Baratheon and the Usurper's dogs had done before. The light on Missandei's smile was disappearing and only formality remained. 

"Daenerys." Jon's voice resurfaced in Daenerys' ears, though he surely spoke in a whisper. The sadness of her heart stirred, she felt terrible pressure, one she had known long ago and who thoughts he would never suffer again. _No. I can't talk to him. I'm not ready yet. I still don't have the strength to do it. I don't know what to tell him._ She closed her eyes, opened them and with a smile, one that tasted false on her lips, turned around, wishing that the dance in her heart would disappear. 

"Jon." She answered, sweetening her voice. She felt her mouth dry. He seemed nervous, though he couldn't be worse than she felt. Daenerys felt Missandei's hand wrap her elbow, transmitting strength to her. "Do you want something?"

"I" Jon stopped, looked down at the ground and played with his hands. He looked up again, trying to find the necessary words. "I need to talk to you... It's important. Can we talk after you break the fast?" It's too soon. " In your rooms, in mine's, in the garden... Where do you feel most comfortable." _Nowhere. I want to go home. To the house with the red door, to Dragonstone, even to King's Landing or the Dothraki Sea, anywhere is better than here._ But she couldn't choose any of those places.

"In the garden... with my children, Rhaegal and Drogon. I'm their mother and they need me." _And they're the closest thing I have to my home. They're the only ones who're going to be by my side to the end. My children._

"Of course, Your Grace. Lady Missandei." Jon farewelled. Jon gulped spit and walked away, lengthening the strides and going as fast as he could without looking like he was running. 

Daenerys saw him walk away, not knowing what to answer. They needed to talk, they needed to settle the issue of inheritance, their family, the war. Their relationship. All. And they had to do it before the war started, Daenerys could not allow the war against Cersei Lannister to continue without ensuring her legitimacy, that would only bring more chaos and suffering for all. She had not come to continue with wars and suffering, she sought peace. 

The fire's fireplace comforted her with her warmth, but not enough. She needed to get close, she needed to stop feeling that cold that it was freezing her mind and soul. Suddenly, she had starved, felt stones in her stomach, drowning her. Daenerys felt she couldn't breathe. The whole Great Hall began to spin, small inclinations that were increasing speed. Her eyes saw flashing lights and darkness, shadows that wanted to attack her. Her knees trembled, Missandei's worried voice seemed far away. The voices became one, they mingled, they made a single powerful voice that attacked Daenerys' ears. She was terrified, she was again with Viserys, who had cruelly wounded her for years, or with Khal Drogo, who had raped her and forced her to pretend to love her to survive. For a while, she had not been able to assure whether her feelings were real or faked, she had confused fear with love to survive. Again, she was trapped, as if someone had put a chain around her feet again, as if someone had taken away the wings she had gained with her dragons. Daenerys felt the cold extinguish her fire, her life. Her heart was beating harder and louder. Missandei grabbed her hand gently, it was a comforting squeeze, a trace of heat.

"I need to get out of here, " she whispered, she didn't know where her voice had come from because she felt unable to react. Tears stung, but she kept her head up. She felt Missandei's hands around her back, giving her strength, offering her warmth. She kept shaking, her head full of noise, but it was repeated that she should continue, that she should be strong. She walked, fearing falling at every step, but as she had always done, she stood up. 

They didn't go to her room, as far away, cold and cruel as the rest of Winterfell. It was where she would be welcomed. The voices were gradually disappearing, the world stopped spinning and she no longer felt she was going to faint. Daenerys felt warmth and safety and only then, peace of mind and true joy were allowed. Tears were born, but her sons's soft scales reassured her, her children comforted and protected her mother. She dry off her tears and, although her heart was still beating fiercely, the fears disappeared as the heat protected her.

She stroked Rhaegal, its poor broken wings. _We have to wait._ She thought, watching the grotesque wounds. _And my kids need help._ Drogon's head stroked her back. Between laughter and sobs, she let her children take care of her. There. That's where she was safe, where her home was. Her tremors subsided, her breathing calmed down. It was no longer cold, there was no fear, only warmth and peace. When she turned, she saw Missandei's worried face, there were three Unsuallied Guards, specifically three of her generals, Grey Worm, Heroe and Sure Spear. They waited far away, with the shiny spears high, somehow illuminating Winterfell's cold, dark garden. 

"Your Grace, are you all right?" Missandei asked, approaching with slow and calm steps. She seemed worried, though Daenerys was her protector.

 _No. Now I do. I don't know. I don't want be far from my sons._

Daenerys nodded. It was a uniform and fast movement, she could notice mistrust in Missandei's golden eyes. She was her protector, she could not be weak. No weaker than it had already been shown, at least. She fixed her braids quickly, smiled nervously and tried to calm down. Her heart kept dancing, but it was a delicate, quiet dance. _It's okay. Look, I'm fine._ She thought. Daenerys still didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry, Missandei. I" The words jammed on her lips, her hands began to sweated. "I'm fine, " she managed to say, but she noticed her stuttering. And, from the worrying look, Missandei too. They had been together for years, Missandei had been their first true friend. And yet she didn't want to be seen sad, to see her weakness. Tears returned, and not even the warmth of her children prepared her for the cruel cold she saw at the time. 

Daenerys held her breath when she watched Jon approach. He was still as nervous as in the morning. He stopped before Grey Worm and his generals, undecided between approaching or not. Jon looked at Daenerys, stepped forward and Daenerys, leaving no way for tears, stopped him. She forced a smile ( _how many fake smiles have I created today?_ ) and, with doubts, asked her general to leave them alone. 

_I'm with my kids. He can't hurt me. Now, I'm safe._ But the cold seemed to impose itself on fire. _Another man who's trying to force me to see him like a dragon?_ She thought scared. 

"Missandei, leave us alone. We need to talk. Grey Worm, Heroe, Sure Spear, I ask you to wait far, I don't need you now." Daenerys ordered.

"Your Grace, are you sure?" Missandei asked. She hadn't looked at Jon since he had arrived. 

"Yes, don't worry." She reassured Missandei.

The cold grew as Missandei and her generals walked away, Daenerys how noticed Grey Worm and Missandei were holding hands, she also sow the gaze her friend directed at her. Before her, Jon, with his hands on his sides, looked everywhere but her. The snow seemed to freer her heart, her hands were numb. That there was no hope to find warmth in that terrible castle? Except for the love of her children.

The wind of winter ruled in the castle being, along with the breaths of his children, the only sound. Daenerys approached them, if he could hear the beat of their hearts he would feel safe. She needed the heat. She needed their strength, the forces of flames, the strength of the dragon. And the dragon spoke. 

"We need to talk. And it's important, I need you to listen to me." Her voice felt fire, powerful and free, her children gave her that strength. _Although now, I only have two._

"I know. We need to talk about-" Jon stopped. He looked up and his eyes, which have been previously warm, were now painful. There were tears on his cheeks and Daenerys was horrified to think as he did not know what true pain was. He didn't know what rejection was, frosty looks, loneliness. Or, at least, Jon had no reason to feel that way, not when everyone loved him in the North. 

_They love him...and they despise me._

"We need to talk about the succession, the throne, our family. We need to talk about ourselves, as lovers and as heirs." _Although I don't think I can love you, although it's not you I dream about. And I think I'm not the one who warms your heart either._ The thoughts were not as painful as she could have thought. 

Jon nodded, seemed to encourage her to continue speaking. Daenerys approached her children, she needed the fire, as she had needed countless times before

"I don't want to hurt the innocent and a war for succession would only make it worse. My duty is to fight this war, to bring glory to our family, to bring justice. For years, I have struggled to bring peace and justice to the cities and recover the home that was taken from me. You and I are Targaryens, the last, tell me the truth, do you want the iron throne? Do you want to be King of the Seven Kingdoms?" The words might be too direct, but Daenerys needed to know if the light that had guided her, if her home had been someone else's light. She didn't think she could take the pain.

"I don't want to be king. I don't want any thrones. I will fight alongside you in that war, I want the fall of the house that destroyed my family, not the throne." Many of the chains that had imprisoned her heart broke and Daenerys felt the fire make her wings return. "But we need to talk about our relationship. About my mother, about my f-father." The tears had returned to Jon's eyes, there was a slight tremor in his body and Daenerys felt the need to bring him closer to the fire. _He's my nephew, my last family._

"Of course." Her voice had become a warm and controled fire where it used to be free fire, but she still did not feel able to smile. 

"No..." Jon sighed, seemed unsure to speak. "I don't think we can go on with our relationship. A lot of things have happened and I need time to find out who I really am. I'm not sure I want to stay in Westeros for a while. I'll help you conquer the iron throne, but I'd like to leave after that." 

Everyone seemed to want to secayaps, but Jon was a free man and she didn't forbid him to leave. Even if that with a Winter Lady who didn't seem to want her company.

"You are free to go wherever you want for as long as you want. And, yes, I think it's best if we leave our relationship." Jon smiled, and Danerys wished she could give it back to him. "Now, there's only one thing left to do." Daenerys couldn't tell if it was a laugh or a buffoy what she heard, but Jon seemed to understand her words.

An Jon Snow bent his knee.

"I don't want to be king. I deny my legitimacy to the iron throne. You are the heiress." 

She should have been happy, her legitimacy was assured, there would no be another war. But, why did she want the throne, if Westeros seemed to despise her? Why did she want to rule, if she wasn't loved? 

▪▪▪▪▪🌟▪▪▪▪▪

Since she warned her of her marriage to Lord Lannister a moon in the back, she and Valeyna had had a relationship as cold as the winter which had attacked Dorne. Dyanna had heard her sister's pleas, heard her crying, her anger and even her threats. Valeyna had uttered the word "death" and although she had spoken of murdering her husband on their wedding night, Dyanna feared that someone else would be the corpse they found.

Mer kissed her neck and drew a path of love marks to the dark circles under her eyes. She had wept in her arms, when after quiet nights, her shield had broken. Every tear was a fissure that destroyed her strength. On the other hand, every tear she shed on her love was not shed before her banners, before which she was to be firm. Dyanna couldn't doubt. 

"They say they've seen her in Norvos." Dyanna whispered. Norvos, the birth of Arianne's mother, Mellario.

"I know, my love, but that doesn't mean she's coming to Dorne. It was Ellaria Sand who attacked her family." Dyanna shuddered as she felt Mer's warm voice in her ear and her nimble fingers on her hip.

"And Cersei Lannister the daughter of the man who ordered the murder of Elia Martell and her children. Besides, who wouldn't dream of bringing their family back to power? They say she died, but I've already lost faith in everything." Alyse had not yet sent letters, she knew nothing of her... Alyse and Tereshe could be dead and she might be in Mer's arms. 

"She can ally herself with the Free Cities, but Dorne is loyal to you." _Some of them by force,_ Dyanna shook her head.

"You underestimate the Free Cities." She smiled at feeling Mer's lips in her own. 

"I remind you that the Lionnes Queen has the best mercenary company. I'd worry more about the Dragon Queen and the Wolves. I would even care more about the Lioness Queen than the East Sun, nothing assures you not to break her promise." 

"Will you ever stop referring to the nobles with their stealths?" Dyanna asked with a little smile on her dark lips. 

"My love, if your stealth were not a portcullis and instead a majestic creature, I would also name you as one."

"How do you manage to make me happy when everything seems chaos, darkness and death in my future?"

"Years of practice, you keep the way and I protect the guardian." Dyanna stroked her cheek and planted another kiss on her lips, receiving a sweet and loving kiss and smile as she walked away. "That's why I remind you that the Tyrells were also allies of Cersei Lannister. And I don't want you to end up like them."

"Lannister also needs me, I have betrothed my sister to her cousin, Lord Martyn Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. She can't be so stupid." Mer's smile was tinged with compression, though Dyanna did not believe her doubts were so obvious. 

"She killed what was her daughter in the eyes of the gods. Just be cautious, I don't wish your death" 

"Do you think I've done the right thing?" The question did not leave her head, filling her with nightmares about the death of her sisters and daughters. "I have sent my daughter to the lioness's cave." 

"I trusted you, I trust your decision. I think if you've made a mistake, you can survive. As you always do." Her beloved's words would serve, Dyanna did not know for how long but hoped for the time needed to talk to her sister again. Last time, they had both said cruel words and thought with anger. Dyanna regretted hers, but she understood her sister's, she deserved her hatred. And now, she had to see her again. 

She dismissed her beloved with a kiss and got out of bed naked. The fabrics wrapped her body, protecting her and pretending to be armor. Dorne's homes had not been built with the cold in thought, it felt his bones numb, as they seemed to break. Dyanna, shaking, put a warm cloak on her shoulders and gloves on her hands. If they survived, she would change that, she would call the builders herself and review the changes, because she refused to suffer the cold again. 

The walls were white, with large windows now covering black cloth curtains with purple ornaments. Dyanna would have preferred them completely purples, but unfortunately, that dye was too expensive and they couldn't afford it. Around the large stone table and in front of the leather chairs were her ladies and counselors. Lady Aliandra Allyrion, Lady of Godsgrace and her hostage's aunt, looked at her, her black eyes stirred Dyanna's stomach but, faking fortitude, approached her. When she sat down, her ladies imitated her, including her sister.

_Your duty is protect Dorne. From the North, from the Dragon Queen, from the so-called Arianne. Even Cersei Lannister._

"My ladies, Lady Uller and Lady Jordayne have refused to answer our call, my explorers have warned that Lady Jordayne is gathering her fleet and we fear that they plan to attack, or besiege, King's Landing from the sea." Dyanna noticed the little smile on Lady Allyrion's face. 

"Princess, regardless of what I think of Euron Greyjoy and his motivations, Lady Jordayne's fleet cannot face the iron fleet." Lady Dayne said. "Especially if we consider that the Golden Company is defending that city." 

"Lady Jordayne's fleet may not be able to cope with them, but with the help of the Redwynes they can. And you must remember, that the Hightower has not only suffered raids and raids from the Ironborns, reason to confront them, they have also been loyal to the Targaryens since the end of the Dance" Valeyna's voice was powerful and secure. When was the last time Dyanna heard her sister's voice without feeling her anger and hatred? 

"I am aware of that, my princess. But I think Lady Jordayne might have another objective." Lady Dayne assured as she leaned over the map of Westeros on the table. "I consider, that she would rather besiege by sea this same fortress while her armies besiege it by land, perhaps with the help of Lady Uller."

"I don't see the logic behind that movement, my lady. Two armies against those of your houses? It would be suicide." Dyanna said. She admired Lady Dayne, but she had not felt military logical after her words.

"I seem to remember that you have promised our armies to Queen Cersei, my princess. At least most of them. The forces would be quite balanced if more than half of all our armies are in King's Landing instead of here, in Dorne. If they have patience, they could conquer your settlement." Lady Dayne continued, blinded in her stubbornness. And Dyanna began to fear her words.

"What do you suggest, my lady? What does my armies bring back? They must be in Stormlands by now." _And my sister is in King's Landing, a perfect hostage to Cersei Lannister,_

"It could be a solution, my princess." Valeyna said. Dyanna knew words were hidden. _You don't care about your sisters, my princess._ Those were the words her sister wanted to say. 

"Solution that I don't accept. Even if they were more likely, the fleet would arrive before the armies and we could flee. It would be a risk they can't afford." _It's a possibility I can't afford._

"If that's what you consider, my princess." Lady Dayne bowed. Dyanna knew the moons she had taken to reach, being that Starfall was one of the farthest fortresses to Yronwood.

"These are not the only news I bring you, as many of you will know, in the Free Cities there is a woman who calls herself Arianne Martell. She has assembled armies under the flag of the Sun and the Spear. You know of the princess' death, and you lament her as much as I do, but we can't let her fool us. We have enemies in the North and East, Dorne must remain united to prevent further deaths of innocents. Wars have already stained our sands of red, we cannot allow it to be repeated." Dyanna continued, her voice was losing strength as the doubt reflected on the face of her counselors, but she forced hem to continue and speak firmly. She was their princess, she couldn't let them down. she couldn't let any more people down.

"My princess, I understand your fear, but it is too far a danger, if even there is danger. First of all, it's just rumors, no one assures us that a woman under the name of Arianne Martell, is gathering. And even if it were true, they would take time to attack, not only because of the remoteness of the Free Cities, among themselves and among Westeros, but also because of the difficulties of bringing a large army by sea without the necessary fleet. Not to mention the money it costs to gather mercenaries and make them loyal, especially if there is no vote of allegiance. I ask you, with all due respect, to focus on the threats of the North, both from the military and in the cold." Lady Allyrion's words were direct and respectful, but dyanna did not support them better.

"My ladies, I ask you not to try to ignore this problem. Many people would not hesitate to join this false suitor under the banner of the sun." _Half of you could do it._ "We must be united. And yes, I am aware of the danger of the North, but I fear, that the North and the east will unso together against us." Dyanna said. 

The discussion did not end there, they had to talk about the food and resources that each region of Dorne possessed and, of course, the cold. Valeyna ignored Dyanna in the whole conversation. Dyanna had no doubt that, had she not ordered her to stay, her sister would have left without talking to her. 

"Valeyna, we need to talk." Dyanna used the same voice as when she sang to her so that her little sister would stop crying. "I know you're not happy with marriage"

"And are you surprised?" _I remember your screams, sister. I'm not surprised._

"I don't want to make you unhappy, but I must think of Dorne. By a marriage we join once and by a marriage we will separate. My duty is to protect Dorne." Valeyna's eyes filled with anger, there were tears in her eyes that refused to come out. 

"Yes, protect Dorne. What about me? Is my independence and freedom a good price?" Valeyna told her that she looked more like a snake than a princess. "I must renounce my land and culture. I have to give up everything for people I don't know." Valeyna turned around and walked away quickly from her. Dyanna didn't even try to stop her. Her sister despised her, her other sister and daughter were at King's Landings, as possible hostages to Cersei Lannister. She could become a murderer. 

And then she heard the screams. Valeyna stopped and they both ran to the west wing. The place where her daughter Neth and Areles slept.

▪▪▪▪▪🌟▪▪▪▪▪

After the nightmares, Theon had dreamed of the sea. He had dreamed of water wrapping him, filling his lungs and protecting him. The water took him away from time, fear and harm, forcing him to be reborn and away from that terrifying nightmare full of darkness that had been so close to death. Dreams haven't brought him peace in a long time, but when he woke up, his sister's memory drowned out peace. He did not know whether she had reached the iron islands or whether, had she arrived, she had managed to take control of that territory. The Drowned God had allowed him to live, and the price could have been his sister's life. He feared that Euron's men had caught her, he feared losing the last person in his family who seemed to love him. 

He grazed the new bandages that concealed the still-open wound. 

_I could have died._ He thought. 

The maester kept the old, bloody, dirty ones in a cloth bag and gave him the same look of pity as every day. It was terribly frustrating, but Theon had received worse looks.

"The wound is healing as best as possible and fast, but you can't do too much effort or the seams will open. Be careful and patient and travel short distances." The maester's voice was always tense and slow. "You'll need a cane, at least for a while." He said as he pulled out a metre. 

He looked at him doubtful and with pursed lips. The maester hesitated before speaking. 

Can you stand up? 

There was constant pain in the area where the spear had been nailed, similar to crabs pinching his side. But Theon had felt worse. His legs trembled, he grabbed the head of the bed. The situation was ridiculously tense, that man had seen his worst injuries but Theon could not get used to the situation, he felt the need to cover himself and protect himself. Every time he had to undress his chest, his breathing was racing and he felt he couldn't breathe, everything got worse when the master approached the blades to his skin to break the dirty bandages. He did not move and the maester had not told him anything, so Theon believed that his fear was not noticed. Theon not only remembered the pain, he remembered his red blood on the metal, shining in the fire, remembering the shadows and suffocating darkness, the fear of dying in the cold and alone, away from the sea. His stomach stirred as he remembered the laughter, flickering to stop the tears.

The maester was quick, it seemed that they both wanted to finish their daily meetings as quickly as possible. Theon sat on the bed and from there he could see how the maester wrote a couple of numbers on a piece of paper. The maester let the paper rest near the fire as he made his way to Theon. 

"You must not worry, my lord, the cane shall be soon. If you want any specific ornaments or a specific wood, let me know." _No, thank you very much, I'd rather spend the least time with you and your knives._

Theon nodded, his shoulders tense and his back was stretched.

_I need water._

His hands trembled as he took the top of the table near the bed. Theon felt the food go up his throat. He was cold, but the heat suffocated him. 

He closed his eyes and breathed, he began to think of the sea, of the waves cradled and protecting him. _They are not going to lock me up again. They are not going keeping me alive to torture me._ He let go of the air. His hands were still shaking, but he no longer felt like he was going to faint.

When Theon opened his eyes, the maester had finished picking up and turned a look of pity to him again. The maester bowed and, as he was about to leave, the door was knocked. Theon knew perfectly well who was and an involuntary smile was born from his lips when he saw her. It's her room, but Theon appreciates her knocking on the door.

"Lady Sansa." Said the maester bowing.

"Maester Arthor." Sansa said with courtesy, behind her, stayed the woman who saved their lives. Brienne, if Theon remembered correctly. "Lord Theon, are you finished?" It might have been just his imagination, but Theon believed her voice had become warmer when she said his name. She looked him in the eye, and her eyes were so different from those of the Death that her blue could only remind him of life, even if they seemed to be full of worry.

"Indeed, my lady."

"Good, you may retire, maester. I thank you for your services." Sansa smiled at Theon and he gestured back, with a weaker smile. 

"By the way, my lady." The maester pulled a set of letters out of his briefcase. It maked sense, he not only cared about the health of the inhabitants of Winterfell (although, of course, he was not the only maester in Winterfell) also of crows and correspondence. He had more power than many people might think, letters were more dangerous than people usually assumed. Theon grimaced, not only because he felt his stomach stir again, too, because although he couldn't hear the conversation, if he could see Sansa's face getting dark. They were soft gestures, a slight raising of eyebrows, her lips somewhat tight. She raised her head and directed Theon with a fleeting look. She grabbed the letters with a sudden move. 

"I thank you, maester. But next time, I had appreciate it if the letters from the Iron Islands were received by Lord Theon in person, without having to go through me. Especially if they're directed at him. Now, I ask you to withdraw." The maester left, it was curious how quickly such an old man could walk. The further he walked away, more calmer Theon felt. The fire was warm and familiar again rather than suffocating. 

Theon again felt a pain in his side. The pain attacked without warning, most of the time it was a bearable pain but on some occasions he felt his side open, that the spear was going through his side again. It wasn't so horrible on that occasion, it was a pain similar to when he fell among the rocks of Pyke beach meanwhile he was playing with his sistes, more stinging than real damage. Only now, his mother couldn't calm him down. 

Sansa stepped towards him, her eyes scoured his body before turning around to address Lady Brienne. 

"Sir Brienne, please leave us alone. By the way, I've seen Sir Jaime near the garden, maybe, he want your company." Sansa said it, softly and provoked a little smile on Lady- _Sir_ Brienne. 

"Of course, Lady Sansa. Lord Theon, it's good to see you recovered." There was a little smile on her face. 

"Thank you, Sir Brienne. It's good to see you again." 

When Sansa closed the door, they were left alone in the room. Theon raised himself and looked at her hesitantly, there were letters in her hands and worry on her pretty face. He ignored the faint pain in his side and walked towards her, with the glass of water in his hands. His thoughts turned to his sister. _Yara_ Theon wanted to know if his sister had arrived safely on the Iron Islands, she had promised him that she would send a crow to the north if she managed to earn the power of the Islands. Every day that passed without news of her, it was another day he feared about her death and Euron's victory. Theon needed to know if his sister had survived, if he still had family that didn't want him dead. They approached the fireplace, and Theon sat on one of the two chairs in front of the stone structure. 

"Is there any word from my sister?" He asked worried and anxiously, his hands trembled and he could not completely blame the cold, though his body and mind still remembered the ice, the snow, the lack of heat of death and how his bones seemed to break. The fear of dying far from the sea was still present in his mind. 

Sansa opened her warm blue eyes a little more, they seemed sad. She sat in front of Theon, the fireplace illuminating the bodies of both. She searched through the cards and offered him one. To prevent the sea from destroying the letters, these were written on a special paper, made from a tree native to the Iron Islands.

"If you need privacy, say so." Theon nodded, but his attention turned to the seal of the letter. Memories of his childhood, perhaps the only ones truly happy and fearless of a sword on his neck, filled his mind and drowned out the fear of losing Yara. He grazed the scythe, he remembered that it should be silver, which he had engraved on the seal. 'Harlaw' whispered the sea wind in his ear. Hope had been a curse throughout his life, one he seemed to enjoy breaking his dreams of freedom or even death, when it seemed the sweetest of solutions. That curse that, for the first time, seemed to have a happy ending. He opened the letter carefully, trying not to damage the seal. He had to remember a language, ancient and hidden in his memories, that struggled to come out. He and his sister had invented secret language (with the help of his mother, but to think of it was too painful) and even if there were words he could not remember, the message was clear. His sister had arrived in the Iron Islands, and had not only survived, but the islands had a new queen. A better one than the last kings, without a doubt. It wasn't just the language that indicated that the letter was written by his sister, to address him as "baby brother" confirmed everything and drove Theon away from Theon's fear of his sister's death. Theon's heart seemed to stop and he had to reread the same phrase up to five times before accepting that, in an attempt to improve reality, he had not misread it, that he had understood it in the right way. 

_Mother awaits your return. I'm sorry you haven't seen her before, we'll change that. She needs us. She keep calling you, Rodrik and Maron on stormy nights._

Yara couldn't be so cruel. He did not know if he laughed or cried, fast tears were born from his eyes and landed on his smile. They were not bitter tears, they were liberation, the only way he had to express all the emotions he was feeling at the time. Hope, joy, freedom and fear of losing his mother again. All he wanted was to be with his mother now, hug her and make up for the time cruel men had taken from them. 

"My sister is alive." He managed to say while he wiped away tears. "And my mother... I thought she was dead. I've believed for years that my mother was dead but she's alive." 

"I" She began. "I am glad they are safe."

"I like to be with them now." He said caressing the letter. A sense of bitterness prevailed over happiness. _Will my mother remeber my face? Will she recognize me? Or will she just remember a ghost, a memory of the boy who I was the last time she saw me?_

"I am sorry you could not be with them" Sansa said with a guilty voice, holding his hand. "I am sorry- I am sorry that because of my father, you could not be with your family. I am sorry about what he did to you." He had been told that he should be grateful to be held hostage by Eddard Stark too many times, that he owed them something for not killing him and his family (even if Theon still remembered the remains of his brother Maron's body, crushed and unrecognizable, though he had not been able to witness Maron's funeral. He hadn't even been able to see Rodrik's body, but the northerners had made sure he heard of his brother's death at the hands of Jason Mallister too many times.) It was nice to hear otherwise, it was nice for someone to apologize to him for what Eddard Stark had done to him and his family. For laying a sword over his neck. 

"I miss my mother. I can hardly remember her face, but I remember what I felt" Her face was like drawings on the shore, which were erased with the water passing over it. Her voice minged with the sea, but he can remember the calm when nightmares, she sang to him until he could go back to sleep. His mother's protection, he remembered her mother's unconditional love. He will be felt the tears coming back, he blinked to keep them from coming out. 

"Do you want to talk about her? I don't want to force you, but if you need it, I'm here to listen to you." 

"Yes, I think, I think I need to talk about her." He needed to talk about her, maybe so he could remember her face and recognize her when he saw her again. He swallowed saliva and drank water again. 

"I remember the tranquility when I see her figure. The joy of seeing her on the seashore and the feeling of feeling loved when she gave me shells and I learned to name the fish with her while my brothers were on boats away from me. I remember her sewing as she sang, she had a hard but protective voice, I felt she could protect me from everything." _She made me a cloth toy, a kraken. I remember, I dropped it in the sea during a storm, while **they** were bringing me here. I remember the pain and resignation, the thought that at least one of us could return to the halls of the Drowned God._ "I felt safe by her side, she was the one who taught me to swim, not to fear the sea and accept that it was part of me. She told me that the sea would protect me and that I would be saved as long as I didn't get away from the sea." _But they forced me away, and when I came back, I was the one who left._ "She protected me, from my father, from my brothers, from my uncles." He hesitated. His mother had been able to protect him and Yara, his brothers had not had the same fate. Theon could hear their screams if he tried hard. "If I had nightmares she would sing, normally, in the ancient language of the ironborn." As he spoke, he felt his lips full of bitterness. He missed her, talking about her made him feel sadder, but he thought he needed it. Cry now so that when he saw her again everything could be fine. 

He breathed and tried to focus on his mother's voice, affection and protection. He tried to remember the feeling of being safe from monsters. 

"She was -- she is a sweet, loving mother, she's like the sea." Theon said, bringing Sansa's hands to his chest. His voice trembled, the bitterness had disappeared from his lips, now there was the memory of salt. "She is protection and home. But she was fierce as iron too, she could protect me and whisper protection to me and threaten men with killing them and keeping their corpses away from the sea." Theon smiled but he could feel the bitterness return to his lips and ravage the memory of salt. He remembered the time when he believed that life would be as sweet as in her stories and songs. "She used to tell me stories about heroes and the ancient Grey Kings. I suppose she changed the endings, they were happy and our Drowned God always protected our people." Alannys Harlaw had been the real ironborn, with iron in her veins and salt on her lips. Theon remembered the pride within him seeing terrifying men fear his mother. "And those stories had been false, the Drowned God had not been able to protect us from the Storm." He said, dedicating his thoughts to death and chaos. 

And he also remembered her cries, the sense of loss as he was taken away from his mother, the pain in his heart, the fear to the men who had destroyed his home. He had seen them climb Pyke's walls, breaking his home and turning it into a prison. Theon saw the red-tinged sands, a place of love and protection turned into a bloodthirsty battlefield. He remembered the fear of seeing the red waters, Yara's cries of anger, his mother's tears and curses. He could remember that moment when all good memories were transformed into cries of death. The pleas to the Drowned God, asking that it be all over. He remembered how, sobbing, he apologized to his mother.

He also remembers what he told Robert Baratheon. _"It was my fault, my father heard me asking my mother if I could be a prince. He did it to make me happy."_ He had said in his innocence. That monster had laughed, with his hammer of war still dripping blood from his brothers. And then, the monster handed him over to Eddard Stark and his terrifying red-stained sword. _Ice._ He had wished to get away from that sword, the Drowned God had not granted him that desire either. Perhaps his mother's life was his apology for so many inclumped desires, though the gods often do not repent. 

They were near the fireplace, but it was cold. He felt everything around him spinning, the walls getting smaller again. The screams, the voices, the laughter. Loneliness. Theon closed his eyes, felt a chain around his neck, squeezing until the air disappeared, he heard again the cries of his mother, his own, his desperation to want to be near to her and Yara. The rage he felt when he saw one of the king's knights beat his mother that gave way to fear at the time her mother had fallen to the sand and did not rise. He also felt the taste of iron when he kicked one of the guards who held him prisoner. He seemed to return to the storm in which he had wondered the value of his life and had thought of returning home from the sea, perhaps not Pyke or Ten Towers, but to the halls of Drowned God. Maybe his brothers were glad to see him. 

When he wanted to realize it, there was already salt on his lips. Soft hands on his face, a meaningless voice. He did not understand the voice. He cried, all he could see was blood and death, his mother's body lying on the beach where days earlier they had played. He recalled the sadness that attacked his heart and soul. The last thing he saw of the Iron Islands, was his mother's body on the sand, trembling as the waters wet her legs. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Whispered the distant voice, there were lips on his hair. Theon hugged her, crying. He was cold, he listened to his sister's screams, the laughter of the Storm. He tried to focus on the sweet voice, but his mother's cry was too loud. He needed to go back to the sea, he needed to see his mother again. 

▪▪▪▪▪🌟▪▪▪▪▪

Darkness dominated the crypts, the faint fire of the oil lamp illuminated the broken statues. They had collected the bodies of the fallen on that cursed night, Arya had kept tears when she saw a little girl dead. And then there were his ancestors, Robb and Rickon. Bran had told them to return the bones to the graves, which would no longer be raised. There were not many corpses, most of them had turned to dust as soon as the magic disappeared. 

When she heard the sobs, Arya went down the stairs of the crypts faster, jumping the steps. She recognized her brother's sobs, the same ones she listened to when he asked her father about her mother and Ned gave no answer, Arya had been very young at the time, but she remembered them. She remembered. 

The lamp created dancing shadows on the faces of the statues. Arya approached Jon, with gentle steps. Her brother was hunched over, wrapped in his black cape and hugging Ghost. Arya was surprised when she raised her face and see the remains of the statue of Lyanna, half of her face had fallen to the ground, there were erosions in the cloak and someone had removed her iron sword. There were withered flowers and broken glass around the grave. Why had Jon chosen their aunt and not their father to cry? Or even Rickon or Robb? Why not go with their father or their brothers? 

"Jon, brother." Her voice hurt, the pain scraped her throat. "Why are you crying?" Arya crouched beside him, placed the oil lamp on the cold stone floor and, illuminated by flames, raised Jon's face. There was a slight smell of burnt oil near the ground and a small pile of dirt and stone. 

_Jon must have let go of his lamp._ Arya thought 

His eyes were red, trembling like the leaves of the weirdwoods in front of the wind. Ghost licked the tears of Jon's cheeks, her brother tried to smile but only created a painful smile. Her brother tried to drown the sobs, but these only grew. 

"Jon, please, what is happens?" Why was her brother crying? Maybe he did not understand death like she did. She jumped around her brother's neck and allowed him to cry on her shoulder, both being tucked in by Ghost. "Death is not so bad, I know it is now horrible but the feeling will disappear. She cries at the fallen, no on-" Arya stopped, savored the name on her tongue and brought her bloody memories, memories of too many names and faces. She breathed. _I'm Arya Stark from Winterfell. And I'm at home._ "No one can blame you, brother. We all understand your pain." 

Jon grabbed more tightly. Arya remembered when she was younger and he comforted her nightmares, when he cradled her and promised her that the Old Gods would not let her suffer, neither father nor mother nor her brothers, including him. Now, she had to comfort him from his nightmares. And if Jon promised him the protection of the Old Gods, she owed him the protection of death. The only god.

Ghost leaned on Jon's lap and wrapped him in his body. Arya continued to whisper to him, trying to calm his brother down. 

"You do not understand it, Arya." Jon's voice was hoarse and tired, there was sadness in every word. "I'm not-" Jon stopped still crying and stroked Ghost's head. Arya assumed that Jon wanted to take strength and seek protection in him. She too had took Nymeria's strength, dreaming she was her wolf. That had helped her remeber that she was Arya Stark. 

"Are not you what, Jon?" She tried to make her voice sweet and quiet. _Remember Jon's promises, mother's hugs, father's protection. Remember their love._

Her brother walked away from her. He stood up and, with Ghost by his side, approached the reamins of the statue of Lyanna. He rested his forehead on the place where a sword should be and looked up, looking at their aunt's only stone eye. Arya stepped towards him.

"I'm not your brother, Arya. I do not even know if I'm worthy to be here, I feel like I do not belong to these crypts." Jon's voice was knives in her stomach, it was despair and sadness. And Arya recognized the loss, the feeling of do not know who you are, and what your place in the world is. Or if there's a place for a lost broken soul like theirs. 

"You are my brother, Jon. Not my bastard brother or my half-brother. My brother. As much as Bran, Sansa, R-Robb or... Rickon." Arya blinked quickly, wishing that the memory of her deceased brothers would not produce that cursed pain. "You are a Stark and you belong to this place as much as I do. You are still the son of a Stark." Arya stood on her toes to hug her brother but he shook his head and kept sobbing. Had any northerner had been tempted to say otherwise? If that was the case, perhaps she- 

"I am the son of a Stark and I know who my mother is." Arya smiled without understanding. Jon had always wanted to know who his mother was and now he knew it. Why was he crying? Wasn't his mother what he expected? What was the problem? "I am the son of Lyanna Stark." No. It couldn't be, their father could never- "Of Lyanna Stark and...and Rhaegar Targaryen." Ghost got even closer to Jon. Arya closed her eyes, trying to sort out her thoughts. 

_Jon is our Aunt Lyanna's son. Jon is the son of the man who raped her. Father lied to us. Jon-_ Arya looked at Jon, he was curled up next to Ghost sobbing and scratching Lyanna's grave. Arya stroked Needle. _It's Jon. My brother. What does it matter who his father or mother is? He is the son of my father as much as I am his daughter._

Arya did not understand why their father had hidden the truth from them, maybe he was too scared to think of another solution. She felt hurt but she had to be strong for her brother. She closed here eyes again. She hugged her brother (he was kneeling, so Jon could rest his head on Arya's shoulder.) 

"And you are still father's son. You are still my brother. We have changed, but you are still the brother who gave me Needle, the same brother I love, and this is your place. You belong to the North, you are a Stark." Jon's smile was tinged with sadness. 

"I feel like it is not like that. I dreamed that this was not my place, when I was in the Nigth's Watch... now it all makes sense. They were the Old Gods sending me a message." Jon's voice sounded cold and distant, trembling. 

"Then the gods are stupid." The Olds Gods and the Seven had abandoned her. Everyone had let her suffer and closed their eyes to her family's suffering. Death had been the closest thing to an Authentic God, the God who had heard her prayers. And yet Arya had abandoned him by finding no solution to her desires. She had embraced death and embodied the Stranger, but the cost had been her identity, more than her life. And it hadn't worked. If the gods were not stupid, they enjoyed the suffering of their believers. 

Arya heard a noise, half laugh half som, but half a laugh was enough for now. Thanks to the lamp, she saw Jon deny with his head. He glanced at the statue of Lyanna, or the remains and turned to their father's. Arya sat on the floor next to him. That statue didn't look like their father either. There was dust around the crypt and on the cold stone floor. 

"What about you? Why did you go down to the crypts?" Jon asked, they were both in front of Ned's broken statue. Jon had his body resting on Ghost and caressed his wounded ear. His voice sounded distant, almost a whisper. Arya wallowed, uncomfortable. 

"I also needed to think." Arya confessed. She hugged her knees and looked at the remains of her father's statue. She had never like it, the stone eyes of the statue were cold and distant, it was too much imposing and frightening. That statue was not her father. "About Gendry and his proposal." About death and revenge too. 

"Gendry?" Jon seemed strange, Arya did not blame him. "King Robert's son?" His face was frustrated to think of that man, there was acidity in his voice. It looked like she wasn't the only one blaming the king. In part, she was glad Gendry hadn't been brought up by him. Gendry deserved a better father. 

_I can be your family._

"Yes." Arya snaps her tongue. She did not feel ready for that conversation. Who would have told her she had end up talking about the man she loved with her brother? "I... I love him. And he asked me to marry him." Arya took the dagger and moved it. She was tempted to pass a finger by the edge, but she ignored the thought, she did not want to see more crimson in that dagger. 

"But that's not you" said Jon. 

"Yes... but I think, well, it's complicated. I know he wouldn't force me to be locked up and serve just to have babies. He wouldn't forbid me to be me." _And I don't recommend anyone forcing me to be someone I'm not._ "But marrying him would mean being Arya of Storm's End, Arya of Stormlands. And I don't want that. I don't want to be Arya of Storm's End, I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell. I don't want to get away from home for so long, not again." Arya stood up, felt the tears in her eyes, blinked hard. The screaming. The voice of the Golden Bastard. The sound of her father's head falling. "Every time a Stark goes down south, dies." The crypts were dark but it wasn't the darkness of the night, it was a familiar darkness. The statues could be broken and the graves empty, but their family belonged there. She belonged to Winterfell. She belonged to the North. 

"You survived the South once, I am sure you can do it again." Jon said, in a feeble but cherished attempt to improve her mood. Arya forced herself to smile. "You said it, Winterfell is your home. Our home." Jon corrected when Arya gave him an angry gaze. This time, Arya allowed herself a real little smile. "You will always belongs here, no one will stop you from coming back." 

_Not even No one could stop me to come here._

She was tempted to say it, but her brother wouldn't understand. Instead, she smiled and re-founded her dagger. 

_You do not have to do it, Arya. You do not have to go to the South if you do not want, there are other ways. You are more important._

"I needed to hear that and I appreciate your words, Jon. But I'm still afraid that if I leave, I won't be able to come back. What if another war broke out?" Arya blinked, trying to control the tears. The darkness ceased to be welcoming, sshe looked up again and her father's statue was even less similar than before. It was stone, just a lifeless memory, like the statues of Robb and Rickon, like their mother. "I want to be with him and I want to be with my family. They shouldn't make my choose." She said, sounding miserable. It wans't fair. She did not want to think about her list, either... that damn list. 

Ghost approached her, turning away from Jon, perhaps feeling her pain and confusion, as Nymeria did years ago. Jon passed a hand by her hair, as when she was younger and he smiled at her, it was a smoll smile, but not a sad one. And a smile, in spite of everthing. 

"We are not going to make you choose, it will always be your decision. You deserve to be happy and if you choose to stay here, no one will stop you from going with Gendry, or if you choose to go to Stormlands, you can always come back. It is not a definitive choice and you can choose both. Although you should have thought of this by now." _But Stormlands is too far from the North._ She thought, with a grudge. "As for the war. No more White Walkers, no more Boltons or Freys. You both killed Littlefinger, even though I would have liked to see his death." Arya let out a little laugh 

Arya nodded. She wiped some rebellious tears with her hands covered in gloves and smiled back at him. 

"And when this was is over, there will be no more Cersei." Arya's throat dry out, stroked the dagger on her belt. Then she stroked Needle. 

"And if I told you I wanted Cersei Lannister dead ?" Asked Arya. 

"Half Westeros wanted her dead" 

"But, and if I said I want to be the one to kill her. And if I told you she has been on my list for years and now that I can kill her, I'm afraid." Arya asked again. 

"We have all done terrible things. Wanting to kill Cersei and regret wanting him does not seem too horrible." Jon tried to comfort her. The statue of father seemed to judge her. 

"I do not regret wanting to kill her. I just do not know if that's what I want anymore. And I have wanted it for so many years that -- "Love. Family. Revenge. Revenge or justice. Arya stood up. "Thank you, Jon. I need time, but you have helped me." Jon nodded. They both knew that was not the whole truth. 

"If you need to talk again, I can hear you."

"I can hear you too, brother. Are you going back upstairs ?" Arya asked. 

"I had rather stay here a little longer, I need to think too. You can take the lamp. Do not worry, Ghost will help me back." Arya walked away from Jon and the statue of Ned. She was near to Robb's, too old and young at the same time. She wanted to close her eyes when she passed Rickon's statue. Arya stopped with the lamp in her left hand. She opened her eyes and faced Rickon's statue. He was even more painfully young than Robb, the iron sword given to him had been drestoyed. Arya grabbed her dagger with her rigth hand. She left the dagger in Rickon's grave. She did notthink she needed it anymore. 

She went up the stairs, with less bitterness on her lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story began because I loved Sansa and Theon happy and it has ended up being a divergence from the season eight canon in which I change all of Westeros' policy... and Theon and Sansa are happy. I hope you enjoy it and because English isn't my first language I would appreciate every possible correction. In the next chapter, we're going to know about Yara, Dyanna Yronwood and the news Ladies (and Lords) of Westeros. I hope you enjoy it!


End file.
